


Latex, Leather, and a Pinch of Pixie Dust

by erisgregory



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Dom Derek, Everyone Is Alive, Fae Magic, Faeries Made Them Do It, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nipple Piercings, Obligatory Undercover BDSM Club Fic, Romance, Sex Club, Smut, Sub Stiles, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4030477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erisgregory/pseuds/erisgregory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles agrees to go undercover with Derek as his sub at a Fae run BDSM club. If these fairies are using magic to ensnare human slaves, they'll have the combined Hale/McCall pack to deal with. If not, then Stiles got his nipple pierced for nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Latex, Leather, and a Pinch of Pixie Dust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lonniek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonniek/gifts).



> This is my love letter to lonniek, Blaine to my Kurt, Derek to my Stiles, and sometimes the Stiles to my Derek. I hope you know how much I love you, darlin', and I hope this makes you smile. *huggles*
> 
> This fic was beta'd by the amazing Abbey ([Ack](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ack/profile) here on AO3)! All errors remain my own, though this story would never have turned out so well without your help. Thank you!
> 
> *see the end notes for more in depth information about the dubious consent (contains spoilers).

“Tell me again why I have to be the sub?” 

Stiles is standing in front of the mirror with his hands on his hips, glaring at Lydia. He can’t keep looking at himself or he'll chicken out, and that’s not cool at this stage in the planning. At least not over his wardrobe or lack thereof. Lydia just smiles that sweet condescending smile of hers that gives the message that Stiles should just smile and look pretty. He doesn’t feel pretty, though. He feels naked and cold. Also, his hair is gelled to the point of being ludicrous. 

Stiles starts, “But everyone knows Derek is--”

“Everyone knows Derek is what?” Derek interrupts. His expression looks less than pleased. As usual.

Stiles forgets what he was about to say because - holy shit - Derek looks fucking awesome in leather pants. And no shirt. Why? Oh, and a leather vest. God damn. Oh shit. Oh shit. Of course the bastard’s nostrils flare and he gets this satisfied smirk on his face because he knows Stiles thinks he’s hot. Fuckable even. Damn werewolf noses. Reason 455 out of a million why this plan is seriously flawed. Stiles has a list. It might not be a million, but it’s a lot.

“Uh…” Stiles internally curses his masterful articulation.

Lydia answers for him, “Everyone knows that Derek is your Dom because that’s what they expect. So deal with it. We don’t want these fae looking any closer at you than necessary.” She’s busy putting her fancy hair pomade junk back in her bag, but she turns to fix him with a serious look. “They all have human subs.” Lydia waits, one eyebrow arching. Stiles feels like he’s supposed be saying something but he has no idea what it is. “Do you see where I am going with this?” He grimaces so she turns back to her bag. Now Lydia is pulling out out a leash and Stiles isn’t at all sure he agreed to be on a leash, but at least he’s now distracted from Derek standing there looking like every leather daddy fantasy Stiles isn’t admitting to ever having.

Derek’s face suddenly goes blank... 

“When did you do that?” He pointedly asks, looking at Stiles’s chest. No, not looking, staring, hard. Nostril flare and all. 

“Oh, I…?” Stiles looks over at Lydia for assistance, but she only raises her eyebrows at him with a grin as if this was the exact thing she was waiting for.

Stiles returns to Derek’s question, “I thought it might help me blend better. So I don’t look so hopelessly vanilla.” He swallows and glances down at the little stud sticking through his right nipple. It’s still a little on the red side, still a little and sore, but it looks much better than it had five days ago when he’d done it. He’d been impulsive, sure. Scott thought he was slightly insane, but the woman who’d done it had cooed over him so much he’d actually begin to believe it looked good. Maybe it looked weird because he hadn’t done both. He’d backed out because that shit hurt.

Derek is several steps closer when he looks up. “It’s a little late for me to back out of it.” Stiles says. It’s not like he can take it out now.

“If you’re having second thoughts I need to know now while there’s still time to take someone else with me.” Derek says this like he hopes that’s the case, and it so isn’t the case. Derek needs him, he’s not replaceable. Not around shifty fae who may or may not be involved in human trafficking. Weren't they talking about his nipple piercing?

“I meant the piercing, it’s too late to back out of that.” Stiles watches Derek’s face lose that glimmer of hope that he was suddenly changing his mind about going. It takes on a slightly darker glint. He can’t hope to know what it means, but he feels scrutinized in a way he isn’t used to.

“Anyway,” Stiles clears his throat, “I’m not having second thoughts, I’m fine.” Derek is making him wish he was wearing something other than little latex shorty shorts, knee high boots, and a collar.

“You’re sure?” Derek steps past Lydia and fixes him with a look. It makes Stiles feel like he might combust. They are standing way too close now. So close he can smell Derek’s aftershave and that’s super close because Derek never uses products with strong scents. It’s a werewolf thing, Scott had explained.

Stiles feigns confidence to convince Derek, “I’m sure. Besides, you need my mojo in case things get,” he wriggles his fingers in the air, “hairy. Ya know?” He realizes that he does not sound so sure, but instead of worrying about trying to convince Derek any further he reaches for the leash still in Lydia’s hand. In the process he gets some space from Derek.

“Fine, let’s go over the plan one more time.” Derek says.

They go over the plan three more times until Stiles refuses to speak any further, and Lydia has to hide her laughter behind her hand.

“I wish I could see how this is going to go. Please remember to play your part, Stiles, okay? You’re not supposed to be a misbehaved sub tonight. Call me, the minute you get home? The very minute, Stiles.” Lydia starts to grab her bag, heading for the door.

“Yes, alright, yes. I promise.” Stiles is nervous, and a little too excited for all of the standing around he is doing. They need to leave already before he remembers all of Scott’s reasons about why this is a bad idea.

“Or text me if you’re too occupied to call!” Lydia says over her shoulder as she leaves Stiles’s apartment, the door slamming behind her. Stiles might be blushing. Probably is; but he’s ignoring it for sanity’s sake.

There is a brief silence before Stiles starts towards the door.

“Come on Daddywolf, let’s get this show on the road!” Stiles hates his mouth sometimes. He does not look back, just walks through the door like any grown ass man would.

______________________________________________________________________________

The ride to the club is absolutely silent. Stiles does try his hand at small talk, but small talk has never been Derek’s thing, so he opts for the radio instead. Derek even turns it up when Fall Out Boy comes on because he’s awesome and secretly cares that Stiles is beginning to freak out in the passenger seat.

The “club” as they’re calling it, is in a big fucking mansion just outside the city proper. Stiles isn’t entirely sure the fae didn’t just magic the thing into being, because how could he have missed the thing sitting on the side of the hill the way it does? Deaton had explained it was a whole barrier thing keeping everyone from seeing it and the only reason Stiles sees it now is because he’s a lot more in tune with his spark.

He can see it now as Derek turns on the road that winds towards it for the next five miles. All of the lights are on and it’s big, but not old and stuffy like some haunted house mansion he would’ve tried to break into with Scott as kids. It’s modern, streamlined, and gorgeous. Way too rich for the likes of him, that’s for sure, but Derek maybe looks the part tonight. Stiles steals a glance at him for the fourth or fifteenth time. Black leather pants that look painted on, a leather vest, and no shirt (thank you very much Lydia). It shows off how rock hard his chest and abs are, and when he moves it reveals dusty dark nipples, god damn. Then there’s the big studded belt that feels a little bit like a dog collar joke to Stiles. Derek doesn’t look like a joke though. He looks edible and this was the second most important reason Scott thought all of this was a terrible idea. Because Stiles was already into Derek and there would be no hiding it tonight. In front of people they are trying to fool. Which means Stiles has to pretend he sees Derek like this all the time and is totally used to it and comfortable with it and is expecting rewards for being so good and calm…

“Stiles.” The car is pulling off the side of the road and he thinks maybe now is a good time to remind Derek about driving safety, and pulling over on the non existent curb on a dark road, but his hands are shaking.

“Huh?”

“Hey, look at me.” Derek’s tone is gentle.

He grabs Stiles’s hands between his and squeezes. “Hey. We can still turn around. I’m not about to put you in a situation that makes you feel like you don’t have any control, okay?”

Stiles laughs, still looking forwards. It’s a tiny sound. And not a happy one. But he looks Derek in the eye when he says, “It isn’t that, alright? I’m okay with that. I trust you, dude.”

Derek looks Stiles in the eye and nods, believing him. 

“Good, because we never really got a chance to talk about this alone and it’s almost too late to say it, but whatever happens in there, it’s still your choice okay? I’m not going to hurt you and I’m not going to leave your side. No one else will lay a finger on you. And if it’s too much, we leave. We might be playing at Dom and sub, but I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to. I think we should set some limits. And agree on a signal, in case one of us needs to leave.”

“You want a safe word too?” Stiles asks, because he’s a shit and likes to give Derek a hard time even when Derek is being sort of awesome.

“Yes. That too.” And okay. He’s serious. 

“Okay. If one of us needs to leave, we should tap our own wrist or the other person’s wrist three times.”

“Good. And the safeword?” Derek asks.

“Fahrvergnügen” Stiles replies immediately.

“Stiles.” Derek looks totally disappointed in him, but it’s funny, okay? He’s nervous and being a douche is how he handles that.

“What? It was the first word that came to mind!” Honestly it’s better than the first word, the first word was muffin, as in blueberry with a crumbly top, as in stud.  
“Something simple.” Derek blinks at him, waiting.

“Okay. How about bread? That’s simple.” Stiles grins. 

“Bread? Can you take anything seriously?” Derek gives up on looking at him and turns to look out the windshield with an annoyed grunt. 

“I am taking this seriously, I’m serious about bread. It is simple and wholesome and unsexy.” Not at all like muffins of the studly variety.

“Fine! We’ll use bread.” Derek continues to look away. There is something somewhat satisfying in the way he huffs his breath in and out, all frustrated over a little word. It makes Stiles laugh, which is so not the right time, but Derek just glares until he stops.

“And limits?” Derek asks him softly once the car has gone quiet again.

“I don’t know man. I mean I’ve thought about it, but I’m not imagining you’d get anywhere close to anything that will hurt me or bother me.” Now Stiles is serious.

“Let’s just set some anyway. For my sake, okay?” There is no way Stiles can say no when Derek loses the glaring and goes all puppy soft. He had to have learned it from Scott, which is so not fair.

“Alright. Like, I don’t want to crawl around on my knees. I’m going to looks stupid doing it and it’ll hurt because I haven’t had any practice.” Stiles complies, answering as his eyes cast around for anything to look at that isn‘t Derek, because, awkward. Though he’s sure it’s going to get way more awkward before the night is over.

“Fair enough.” Derek concedes.

“And I don’t want to be hit with anything but your hand.” Stiles’s lips purse at the thought of being bent over Derek’s knee at some point, for the mission of course.

“Stiles, I’m not going to hit you at all.” Derek is trying to assure him.

“Okay, but for arguments sake, nothing but your hand,” he insists.

“Fine. I agree.” Derek says calmly.

Stiles still can’t look directly at him as he says the next part, his eyes dart to the side, out the window behind Derek instead. “I don’t think… it’s going to come up I’m sure, I mean Lydia basically prepared me for every situation already, but I don’t know if I can handle, that is…”

Derek places a hand on his knee and squeezes briefly before letting go. “Okay, whatever it is, I’m not going to do it. Not if it makes you this nervous. We’re just playing roles here, I’m not actually planning to do anything with you other than stand around, pretend to drink, and enjoy the atmosphere while we’re casing the club. So whatever it is, it’s okay to say it.”

“Alright. I don’t think we should go too far, physically. In general. Which will ruin the effect, won’t it? What if they expect us to be all over each other?” They aren’t even there yet, but it’s a little like being on a roller coaster already, imagining various what if scenarios.

“Then they’ll be somewhat disappointed. I told you, nothing is going to happen in there that we both aren’t okay with.”

Stiles lets out his breath in relief. “Okay, okay. Good. I mean, you can touch me I just didn’t want to have to--”

“No, I got it. We’re not going to take it too far. Is that everything? Because I have two things to add.” 

“That’s it.” Stiles nods. 

“Alright. One, I don’t want you to leave my side. No matter what you see. Even if you think you can help someone, whatever we do, we do it together.” He’s holding up a finger at Stiles and it’s a little bit funny.

Stiles nods, though, in total agreement with that idea. The last thing he wants is to be kidnapped by fairies tonight. Reason number one why Scott thought this plan was a bad idea. He had two reasons, both of them simple enough. Stiles had about a million, all to do with just how hot he found Derek on a regular day, and only one good reason to go along with it. Derek needed him. So it was a done deal in his mind. He could set aside his personal issues for the pack.

“Two,” Now he’s holding up two fingers like Stiles might lose count. He gets points, though, for distracting Stiles yet again from his nerves. “Your magic is a last resort. The moment you use it, everyone will know what we’re about. So let me take the lead and you hold back unless you absolutely must tip our hand. Got it?”

“Got it. Okay, I think we have to do this now.” Stiles feels better in some ways, but he’s still apprehensive. All of Lydia’s information couldn’t possibly prepare him for whatever they’re about to walk into.

“We do.” Derek agreed. And after one last searching look that Stiles couldn’t begin to fathom the meaning of, Derek pulls back on to the road and then continues the drive up to the mansion.

______________________________________________________________________________

The music can be heard before they even pull up. It’s thumping into their car and making Stiles’s knee bounce. Derek’s hands are squeezing the wheel, but otherwise he stays calm and that helps Stiles. The front drive is circular, allowing patrons to pull right to the door where a valet is set up, waiting to park their car in the back or where ever. The center has a fountain ringed by flowers and Stiles isn’t entirely sure they’re regular flowers. He’s never seen some of the hot pink vines or the purple bell shaped flowers that are crawling over the edge of the fountain. He can’t think too much about it because Derek is putting the car in park and handing over his keys to a man in uniform. Then he comes around to let Stiles out. 

His hand is warm and Stiles grips it tightly for the few seconds they are touching. Then Derek is leading him on the leash, one step ahead of Stiles as they walk to the front door. They are welcomed by a huge man whose biceps look to be about the size of Stiles’s waist. His skin is so dark that it’s almost indistinguishable from the black leather straps that criss cross his arms and chest. His terrifying look is completely disarmed as he smiles warmly at them and takes their invitation. He might be sparkling, too, but Stiles can’t tell if it’s his skin or the lighting.

“Mr. Hale,” His eyes travel over Derek briefly before turning on Stiles who suddenly remembers he’s not supposed to be making eye contact. Even with incredibly large and friendly looking men. “And guest. My mistress is expecting you both. You are most welcome here.” His voice is so deep and soothing that Stiles relaxes just a little bit more as they are ushered forward. Even so, he reminds himself not to trust anything he sees or hears, at least not until they have a better feel for the place.

They are led through the darkened foyer through a pair of double doors and into what was probably a ballroom or something equally insane. From Stiles’s quick look around this is the main room. There’s a D.J. on a stage to the right, space for dancing, a bar across the way, and the rest of the space is arranged like a series of living spaces with couches and small tables and several pieces of ominous looking furniture Stiles isn’t sure about. It’s not a wide open space either. There are curtains and half walls that make all the spaces he can see feel intimate. Dark. 

Black curtains frame massive windows across the way and drape around the perimeter of the room. The ceiling looks like a moving artist’s rendition of the universe. But the people. So many people everywhere. Doing things. Together. He’s suddenly glad he’s supposed to be keeping his eyes down. He needs to acclimate before he can try and take it all in again. 

“Derek, darling!” Stiles hazards a peek at the woman coming toward them. She’s tall, so tall, holy shit, and wearing a black satin gown that’s neckline goes down almost to her belly button. It’s tight and leaves nothing to the imagination. Her black hair is piled in curls on her head and held back with a glittering ruby comb to match the ruby choker around her neck, and her skin is so dusty brown Stiles thinks it might be a bit on the rose colored side. Her shoes are black strappy stilettos and she’s wearing long black satin gloves. All in all she looks like a very scary character from True Blood. Gorgeous and instantly someone to fear. Derek very subtly pulls him closer and takes his hand.

“Shandra, thank you so much for having me.” Derek bows because he’s fucking charming like that and Stiles is uncultured swine so he stands there looking at Shandra’s feet. Her toes are bejeweled as well.

“And this must be your Stiles that I’ve heard so much about. He is lovely.”

“Thank you.” Derek answers.

“Oh Derek, you are so formal, please, both of you enjoy yourselves tonight. We have a very special evening planned. Grab a drink and a seat near the dance floor, and find me or any of the staff in masks, if you need anything.” With that Shandra reaches her hand out and lightly touches Stiles under his chin so that he looks up at her.

Stiles holds his breath as she takes in his features.

“Oh my, yes. He is quite lovely.” Then she is turning and disappearing into the crowd. Her finger was like ice even through the glove and Stiles can’t help but shiver.

“Let’s go pretend to get drinks.” Derek whispers to him. 

The bass thumping beneath Stiles’s feet is distracting, but Derek has his leash still so he follows along easily enough. It helps that the patrons move aside as though unconsciously avoiding touching the werewolf or his pet. Stiles does try to keep his head down, but it’s so hard. They pass people in every stage of undress. They pass fae of all colors and sizes, some even have fucking wings and no one warned him there could be actual winged fairies here. A woman is being spanked across her master’s knee and a small crowd has gathered. Stiles wants to worry for her, he really does, but she looks so freaking blissed out that it’s impossible. Also, thanks to the various displays around them and the mere thought he and Derek could engage in something even remotely similar, he’s getting hard. Everyone will know. Derek knows already he’s sure. Time to look at the draperies or the chandeliers, not the creepy chains there. He tries to find anything to look at other than the writhing bodies all around them.

They arrive at the bar. At last, a respite. 

“What can I get you sir?” The bartender is in the coolest dress Stiles has ever seen. At first he thinks it’s jewels, but it’s not. It’s freaking spikes in tones of red, black, and silver. It looks metal as hell. Stiles can’t help but think of a certain drag queen who’d look amazing in it. The guy’s got a big fat ruby nestled in the middle of a black satin ribbon around his neck and a shock of pink hair with a tiny glittering nose ring that almost detracts from the way his blue eyes glow. A black filigree mask outlines those eyes. It’s almost too creepy. Cool, but seriously creepy. 

“Sit, for god’s sake.” Derek tells him and lets go of the leash.

Stiles gratefully sinks onto the nearest stool and crosses his legs as subtly as possible. The music has been lowered a notch or two and the dancefloor is being cleared. A little part of Stiles really wants to stay close to Derek, to safety and honestly because it feels sort of nice being led around by him. Which of course Stiles will never tell anyone ever. However now is so not the time for thinking like that. Now is the time for thinking unsexy thoughts. Nightmares about being back in high school. Naked. Not naked, less sexy than naked. Pop quizzes. Cleaning out the disposal when it clogs up, Derek’s ass is literally right there, god damn.

“One bottle of water and do you have Lindemans Lambic? Preferably Black Currant or Raspberry?” Derek and Boyd are on this weird beer kick that is way over Stiles’s head. If he’s drinking beer, which he rarely is, he likes it with a lot of lime and salt to hide the beer flavor. He files the word Lambic away for later though, in case it’s better than the IPA crap they were into last month.

“Bottled beverages, pretty savvy for a newcomer.” That has Stiles’s attention, but Derek doesn’t seem too ruffled. He waits silently until Pink Hair Guy hands over the drinks with a laugh.

“You’ll want to get a seat close to the dance floor, in the next twenty minutes. It’s a great show.” He tells Derek.

Derek picks up the leash and moves them to the windows. “Don’t drink that. It’s just for looks.” He tells Stiles. He does this by leaning in close, speaking it against his ear. It makes Stiles tingle and squirm. 

“Dude, I got this. I’m not stupid. I did all the required reading. Plus Lydia wouldn’t leave me alone until I could recite her list of do’s and don’ts when visiting fae, so we’re good.”

“You don’t seem good. You seem nervous and--”

“Wow, no.” Stiles stops him. “Do not finish that sentence. I can’t help my natural responses to all of this visual stimuli. How do you handle it, seriously? I just look around and… yeah.”

“I was going to say you seem overwhelmed, but yes I’m aware of the other reaction.” Stiles can’t help that his mouth drops open at that. Derek tugs him impossibly closer and wraps an arm around his back so he can lower his voice further.

“It’s natural, like you said. And I handle it, because I’ve seen it before. Not fae. Humans. In New York.”

“What?”

Stiles is aware that he’s holding on to Derek now, hands wrapped into Derek’s vest and he’s staring right at his shoulder because that’s really all that’s in his line of sight. It’s better than looking up at the whirling infinity of the spinning galaxies above their heads. 

Derek pulls back and looks at him. “I needed something to lose myself in, back then, and something I could feel I had control over. That worked for me. So I imagine I’m a little more immune to it than you are. And that’s okay. I remember what it was like, those first few times.”

Oh god now Stiles has a thousand questions and none of them are appropriate in any way shape or form.

“Later, okay? When we don’t have a job to do.” Derek tells him, reading his mind/when he sees Stiles’ reaction.

“Okay, yeah.” Stiles agrees, and he slowly lets go of Derek’s vest, pats it back into place.

“So, what do you think this show is going to be?” He’s still a little on the breathless side, but it feels safer, knowing that Derek isn’t judging him in any way.

“Probably a demonstration of some sort.” Derek is scanning the crowd as they settle at the edges of the dance floor. “Now would probably be a good time to get a feel for the magic around this place, with everyone focused on the set up.” He adds.

Stiles agrees, so Derek crowds him against the wall, shielding him from any onlookers, and Stiles closes his eyes turns his focus out into the mass of people. At first it’s nothing but chaos. Then a hum of excitement that he begins to pick apart. It’s not a science. His training is no where near complete. Deaton tells him he won’t be ready as an emissary for a long time. But he can do some things. He can make a shield, he can protect his home and the pack’s homes. He can help keep a werewolf calm, he can sense some feelings, not always, definitely not subtle ones, but most of all he can sense forms of magic.

Right now, they’re here to find out if any humans are under the influence of fae magic. The sort that could hold a human captive or enthralled. Derek will be working to tell if any of these people are in distress. It’s a lot of room to cover, but they really aren’t in any hurry right now. This is important because this house may have been here a long time, but the fae only just recently set up shop here and they didn’t exactly announce themselves to the local pack. They never felt the need, considering they are ancient and this land ties to them further back than the Hale Pack existed. This was exactly how Shandra explained herself to Derek when they’d finally met a week ago and she invited him to bring his human pet, the one she knew he had considering she could read it in his aura, Stiles was of course offended by the suggestion, but he’d agreed and thus their plan was hatched.

Scott, Liam, Isaac, and Malia comprised the second team. Kira’s mother and Deaton had them working on the spellwork outside. Testing for threats and for anything that could hold a human captive. In the event of an emergency they were also laying the groundwork for Stiles to set off a spell that worked off his shield, something that would keep the fae temporarily inside, allowing anyone else to leave. Hopefully them included.

Cora, Erica, and Boyd were the third team, sneaking in from the tunnels they’d found running under the mansion. If all went well no one would ever need know they were there. It had been hell keeping Scott off that team, but he’d been outvoted. They needed his strength hidden and secret until it was absolutely necessary to show him to the fae. They were still under the impression that Derek was completely in charge in Beacon Hills. For this to work, they needed to keep believing that and underestimating their numbers.

“I’m not sensing any distress nearby.” Derek loops an arm around his neck and tips his head to the side. From behind it must look like he’s kissing Stiles. “Though they wouldn’t smell afraid of they were under a spell or drugged,” he reminds Stiles.

“I’m not getting anything like that. Just a lot of … want. Need. Titillation.” Stiles was starting to feel that way himself. Maybe there wasn’t anything going on here that was coerced in any way.

“Let’s move closer to the dance floor, then.” Derek suggests. Stiles gives him one quick nod before they are setting their unopened drinks on a nearby table and moving.

Once again, he has no trouble passing through the crowd, but this time Stiles watches more than Derek’s feet just in front of him. He catches the way people look at Derek, with naked desire. They aren’t afraid of him, like Stiles had assumed, only cautious. They look at Stiles the same way as well. The woman with the crop, strokes it and winks, the naked young man kneeling at his Domme’s feet licks his lips, and it’s a surprise, because while he finds everyone here appealing in different ways, he never expected they’d feel the same for him. And for just a moment, he wonders, how does Derek see him tonight? Or normally even?

Ahead the crowd edges apart and they suddenly have space; right where they can see everything. The D.J has been moved off to the side, and now on the stage is what could only be described as a throne. Shandra is seated on it surrounded by a harem of young men and women, most human, but some fae. They are naked, seated on red velvet cushions, except for a couple who are kneeling. All seem completely at ease to be on display, and those nearest Shandra have their hands on her legs or feet, eyes toward her, adoring. Immediately he reaches for his magic, but still he only feels genuine pleasure and anticipation. It’s infectious and he can feel his heartbeat begin to race. Beside him, Derek wraps an arm around his back and steps close so they are pressed side to side.

A woman, a fae, steps out onto the floor. First she bows to Shandra, then stands facing the crowd. She is petite and clad only in black satin pants that hug her hips before falling loosely to her ankles where they are gathered tight again, like a genie, Stiles thinks. The image persists because he can see the black metal cuffs on each hand and around her throat. Around her belly, a single black chain holds rubies like tiny red droplets against her pale white skin. Her hair is equally as white and drawn up into a ponytail on top of her head. Her petite breasts have ruby teardrops cinched around the nipples, connected by another thin black chain. She is as lovely as all the other fae, and her clear colorless eyes command the crowd despite her size or state of undress. Stiles can feel himself holding his breath as she lifts her hand for attention. Everyone around them falls silent.

“The Lady Shandra wishes to welcome you all to her court and to her home. Tonight she has arranged a special entertainment for you all.”

Behind her, several men come out in similar dress, an army of belly dancers it seems, but they aren’t there to dance, they are setting up three different structures. Actually, one is just a table with a single metal loop at one end. The table is closest to them. Then in the center is a large wooden cross, set like an x with similar hoops at the top and bottom. It’s then that Stiles realizes the hoops are for chains. Finally, farthest from them are two wooden columns with metal loops running down the inside of each column. Stiles feels the tiniest thread of magic, then, as their M.C. raises her hands.

“A contest,” she announces. “Three pets, all in training, will compete for you all to test their endurance and skill.”

The structures are completed and the men disappear behind the stage only to return with the three slaves, two women and one man, and lead them to the three different stations. The crowd lets out a collective sigh of awe, because each of these slaves are not only beautiful, they are each so different it is hard for Stiles to try and compare them to one another in any fashion.

The first woman that walks out is young. Maybe younger than Stiles, even. If she is twenty he’d be surprised. She is short and tanned and so curvy and soft looking, but her eyes are fierce as she scans the crowd. They are daring all of these people to watch her and to watch her win. She has colorful tattoos over both arms, and one running all the way from one shoulder down her side, and around her leg. Her short spiky hair is purple and her lip is pierced in several places. So are her ears and nipples. She looks brave standing between the two posts as she is shackled in place at feet and hands. Her legs are spread, her arms raised, facing away from them and toward the stage, but she seems fearless, even though Stiles feels a tremor of worry for what might be about to happen. Derek is feeling it too, he is sure, because he steps in closer and presses himself to Stiles’s back, circling Stiles’s waist with one arm as though he wants to hold him in place.

The second slave is older, much older, but gorgeous even so. She has big almond shaped eyes that stare straight out at all of them as she walked, her chin high. She is toned and her dark skin is completely without blemish. She practically glows as she takes her place on the cross, her long braids brushing the top of her bottom as she is chained, again facing the stage.

Finally the young man is led toward the table. He is in his young twenties, tanned and blond. He immediately puts Stiles in mind of surfers and other California stereotypes, but his eyes are clear and wise and the way he walks holds a story that Stiles instantly wants to know. He is lightly muscled and tall, and as he is helped up on the table, on his knees, Stiles can see several tiny tattoos, all of them black, on his back and shoulders. His cock hangs hard between his legs, and his balls are drawn up tight. Derek’s hand spasms ever so slightly against Stiles’s stomach. He is not unaffected by the display.

“Our brave contestants have all endured two weeks of orgasm denial.” Again the crowd makes appropriately awed sounds. “And only just now were edged several times, testing their resolve for the final challenge. They will be alternately spanked and teased. Coming without permission will cause them to be eliminated and put on another week of denial, tapping out is allowed but will cause them to become ineligible for the prize. The final pet left or the pet that most pleases my lady will be rewarded with penetration and orgasm. As many as they can handle for the next twenty four hours.”

Stiles can feel his mouth watering, so he lets his eyes close for just a moment as three handlers join the three slaves on the dance floor. When he opens them again, he doesn’t exactly feel any better, but he hopes he can at least watch the display without coming in his shorts while Derek is pressed up against him.

“Easy,” Derek whispers and Stiles nods and swallows, working hard to remember the mission just now.

There’s a guy next to them, with his Dom behind him as well, and he catches Stiles’s eye and grins. Just a flash, an acknowledgement, but then he’s watching the floor again, and Stiles gets drawn back. Now there are three fae handlers, one for each slave. A woman with the tattooed girl, an androgynous fae with sparkling skin for the older woman, and a man for the guy they’re closest to. None of them have any implements, but all of them look like they mean business, even as they lean close, speaking so that only the slaves can hear them. Stiles wants to know what they are saying. Are they warning or encouraging. He hopes it’s the latter.

The M.C. is addressing the contestants now. “You all know the rules. There is no penalty for using your safeword, only for early release. The winner chooses their pleasure both here on the floor and for the next twenty four hours. When I ring the bell, you will switch from spanking to teasing. Handlers, you may begin!”

She leaves the floor and stands to the side of the stage as the hush takes the crowd again only to be replaced by the softest sound of flesh hitting flesh. It’s not hard, not what Stiles expected. This must be the warm up. He can’t help but focus on the pair closest and he can see the way the handler is kneading the guy’s ass between slaps, squeezing and rubbing at each cheek. If the way the slaves leans into the touch is any indication, it must feel amazing.

They only get a few good spanks in before the bell is rung and it is time for teasing. As the handler grabs a handful of the guy’s cock, he can hear Derek’s breath pick up a notch behind him. He feels it too, it’s intimate, it’s hot, there’s no one to stay separate from what’s happening in front of them. Stiles’s heart is starting to race, his pulse picking up. It doesn’t help at all that Derek’s hand is only a few inches north of where he wants it, and the hard line of him is pressed, harder still, to Stiles’s back.

It feels fucking amazing, honestly, and as the guy whimpers in front of them, in total agony from the teasing, Stiles leans back into Derek who brings his other hand across Stiles’s chest, holding him tighter.

The bell rings again, and this time the spanking picks up and they can hear the slaps all the way from the other side of the floor as well, along with the soft surprised sounding cries coming from each of the slaves. Their guy, the one Stiles is now rooting for, has a faint red blush picking up across both his ass cheeks. He dips his back though, sticking his ass out for more, and Stiles feels the first bit of wetness in his shorts. Derek growls softly in his ear, maybe in warning, Stiles has no idea, but it rumbles over him, causing him to squirm. He moves just enough to tell that Derek is as hard as he is, pressing now against his ass, separated by only leather and latex.

God. He wants that. Hell he’s wanted that for years, but it was never so close or so interested. It could be the interest has more to do with the blond on the table than with Stiles, but the vice grip he’s held in makes him think otherwise.

The spanking is reaching a crescendo and the guy’s ass is red and his back covered in a sheen of sweat when the bell rings again. He immediately begins to shake as the handler tugs at his balls and strokes him with only the tips of his fingers, reaching around to pull at his nipple. Across the room, the young woman comes with a shout. She only distracts Stiles a moment, though, as she is led off the floor. His eyes are glued to the way the handler toys with his pet and the guy is in tears by the time the bell rings again. Stiles feels like he could be in tears too. He is in pain now, and he wants nothing more than for Derek to haul him away from here and give him the relief he needs.

“I can smell you, Stiles.” Derek whispers. His voice shakes a little, breathless and almost uncertain sounding.

“You weren’t going to judge me,” Stiles reminds him, his head falling back against Derek’s shoulder. They are roughly the same height so he can still see everything, but he is resting his weight more fully in Derek’s arms, relying on him to help keep him on his feet.

“I’m still not. I just didn’t know how much you’d like this. How good you’d smell.” Derek admits softly.

“I didn’t know how much you’d like it either,” Stiles whispers back. He rubs his ass side to side, slightly, but enough to prove his point. It earns him another growl. Somewhere a bell is ringing.

“You just never took me as the type who’d ever want to submit to anyone. Ever.” Derek tells him. He moves his hand enough to rub slowly across Stiles’s newly pierced nipple, earning a soft gasp that Stiles can’t hold back.

Stiles feels like his eyes are going to be burned with the image of the blond’s ass covered in handprints. It is getting rough and still he moans after each cry as if it was the best thing he’s ever felt. 

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought,” Stiles sighs, wriggling against Derek’s crotch again, this time, fully intent on being a tease.

Derek’s lower hand slides down until it rests on the waistband of Stiles’s shorts. “Maybe you’re right, but I think I’m learning a lot tonight.”

“Derek,” Stiles whines. He can’t help it. He needs that hand lower. Just an inch or two even.

“Do you want to be spanked like that, Stiles? Do you want to submit to someone, to trust them with your body like that?” Derek’s fingers toy with his nipple, pinching softly and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. “Have you fantasized about it before?”

The bell rings and Stiles is only distantly aware of it. He’s caught between Derek’s hands and words and the guy in front of him who was openly weeping now, his hard cock almost purple with need. “Yes,” he admits. “Yes.”

Derek’s mouth, so close to his ear, slides down against his neck as his hand slides over the bulge in Stiles’s shorts.

“Ah!” Stiles is surprised, but more than that, he is relieved, because even that tiny bit of friction feels so fucking good.

“We have a winner!” The M.C. announces, and Stiles thinks maybe it’s because the woman came early, but all he can see now is the handler closest to him stripping out of his black jeans.

“Oh fuck,” Stiles whimpers and Derek grinds against his ass, harder. Still slow, still drawing out every feeling. It’s good, it’s so fucking good. Stiles can hardly breathe.

The feeling of the room around him is one of near suffocation. Everyone feels it, everyone is holding their collective breath as the handler drives himself into the guy without any pause or preparation. Stiles reaches back, laying his hand on the back of Derek’s neck, squeezing, pulling him closer.

Derek’s teeth settle into his neck, gently, but holding him in place, all the same, as they move their bodies together. Time means less and less with Derek’s fingers tracing the outline of his dick then squeezing the head of it through his shorts, but it couldn’t have been long before the guy on the dance floor is crying out and coming in his handler’s fist as they fuck there in front of the crowd. Stiles watches, feeling distant, as the handler unchains him, then lifts him lovingly and carries him off the dance floor, bride style, kissing him the whole way.

The crowd erupts into applause then begins dispersing, each couple or group wrapped around one another, much like Stiles and Derek. Stiles can only faintly pay attention to the others around them, but the general hum of more, more, more, throbs through his head, right down his spine and into his cock making him feel like he is ready to explode.

“Derek please,” he begs.

“Come on,” Derek’s hands leave him, which is the opposite of what he wants, but then they are moving and Derek is hauling him along by the hand, through the room toward the back, toward the couches and little curtained alcoves.

“God, yes,” Stiles readily agrees.

It’s not long before they find a space and Derek sits on the velvet sofa without preamble, pulling Stiles right onto his lap. “Yes, yes,” Stiles chants, and then they are kissing.

Stiles has imagined kissing Derek a lot. Imagined what his beard would feel like, if his lips would be soft or his kisses harsh and biting. This is nothing compared to his imagination. This is suddenly gentle, all at once totally consuming, but careful, as though Derek is aware that he could push too hard and hurt Stiles. It’s maddening and ridiculous besides because Stiles needs it, he needs way more than this tender brush of lips that’s melting him against Derek.

He pushes his body against Derek’s, rolling his hips so their cocks slide together, then attacks Derek’s mouth, pushing his tongue inside, tangling it with Derek’s. Derek moans beneath him, opening up to him, kissing him back harder, deeper. His fingers dig into Stiles’s ass, squeezing handfuls of them through the latex, urging him to move faster as they rock together. Stiles has his hands around Derek’s neck now, then in his hair, and god it’s so soft, fuck, and he feels it starting to build, just as the music starts back up somewhere in the background. Everything is heat and need and he’s close, so close.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

Stiles whips around, his body stuttering against Derek’s, so close, he’d been so fucking close, it hurts. Erica is leaning against a column in the entrance to the alcove, her face one of pure glee and delight. Stiles hates her. Cora is peeking over her shoulder for only a second before she says, “Gross,” and disappears.

Stiles can’t seem to make his body move at all, but Derek does, he pushes out from under him and then moves as far away as he can without leaving the privacy of their little space. And he’s shaking all over. Come to think of it, so is Stiles.

“Hey are you guys…?”

“Compulsion,” Derek growls out. “I can still feel it.” He reaches his hand out to Stiles who has drawn himself up tightly in the corner of the couch and is watching them both, his heart still beating hard and fast inside his chest.

“I never felt it coming. I don’t think.” Stiles tells him. He can’t stop his hands from trembling and he has no idea how he’s going to walk out of here. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Derek.”

“I guess that answers that. We need to get you out of here.” Erica is all business now, the smirk wiped clean off her face. Maybe Stiles doesn’t totally hate her. He kind of hates himself a little right now though.

She steps away and for a moment they stare at each other and it’s raw and open, like a bleeding wound and Stiles needs to apologize, like really apologize, because he would never force himself on Derek, he would never use him or even come close to crossing that line. He knows Derek’s history and suddenly this whole thing seems like the worst idea they ever had.

He’s about to say that, but Derek beats him to it, eyes full of regret. “I’m the one that’s sorry. This was too dangerous and I almost…”

“Hey, no we’re both in the same place here, okay,” Stiles stands. He wants to reach out to Derek, he wants to be back in his arms because it felt so safe there, but he wraps his arms around himself instead.

Then he changes his mind and reaches out. “I still feel it.” Derek nods and reaches back, twining their fingers together. It helps. It hurts like hell, but the connection helps a little. Then Erica is back and Boyd and Cora are both with her. 

“It was the show, I think,” Stiles tells them. Derek is noding but he’s not looking right at Stiles and fuck if that’s not the worst feeling.

“We’re going to walk out the front,” Boyd tells them. Stiles can’t look anywhere but at Derek. He just nods. They both do. 

“Game faces,” Cora tells them, so Derek reaches for Stiles’s leash and lets go of his hand.

Stiles is shell shocked, that’s the best way to describe it. He lets himself be led along, eyes back down, and he’s just trying to make some sense of what’s happened. He reaches again for the feeling of magic in the room, and he gets… very little. There is something though, now that he’s searching. The ballroom is much darker than earlier, the music much louder, and a tiny peek around confirms that everyone is much less clothed than before as well. Derek emits a soft growl of warning, and pulls Stiles in against him. Apparently someone got too close, and that is just… unthinkable really. Derek must be even more affected than he is.

They make it out of the room without incident and Stiles can see the doors now, that lead back outside. Across the wide expanse of marble in the entryway. He knows that somewhere out there Scott is ready with his team to jump into the fray and fix this, but Stiles has to pull his shit together enough to give them some kind of protection first against whatever’s happening back there.

“Hey,” he is about to ask about how Erica, Boyd, and Cora managed not to be affected by it, when there is Shandra. She’s come out from a door to the left of the entrance and is flanked by her slaves and several imposing looking fae. Her guard, Stiles imagines. They stop and the tension hangs there in the air while Derek shifts ever closer to Stiles.

“You insult me, Mr. Hale. Sneaking your pack into my home is poor manners at the least.” Shandra doesn’t look too upset, but her eyes are cold and they bore into Stiles until his head hurts. He pushes back against whatever probing technique she’s using and is rewarded by the pain vanishing.

Derek steps forward and Stiles knows this is about to go very badly. They need the rest of the pack. They need Derek to keep his cool.

“You’re right,” Stiles answers, his hand going to the small of Derek’s back and pressing hard in an attempt to anchor him. “So we were just leaving. Thank you for the invite, honestly, I had the best time.” The words are coming out before he can really think, but he’s working with limited time here..

Shandra levels her gaze at him, but it looks like she might be amused. Maybe they are going to get out of here after all. Of course Derek has to go and ruin it.

“Where do you get off talking about manners when you drug your guests?” He asks, growling. He’s got one hand wrapped so tight around Stiles’s arm that it’s starting to hurt. Stiles presses his back harder, rubbing, putting some intent into the touch as well. Not enough to sway, but a reminder, he’s not alone. He can keep calm.

“Drug my guests?” Shandra is either a great actress or she is honestly shocked by the accusation. She looks completely offended now.

“We know you used compulsion.” Stiles adds softly. “I just haven’t figured out why these three weren’t affected.” He jerks his head toward their rescuers, but keeps his voice very gentle, in an attempt to keep Derek settled.

Now Shandra laughs outright. “Oh my dear, that is just priceless. I wish you could say it again.” A few of her companions are grinning now and looking for all the world like they were staring at adorable babies who’d just done something too precious for words.

“I don’t see why that’s so funny.” Derek tells her, but Stiles’s mind is reeling as he tries to figure it out.

“Because, Mr. Hale, there is no compulsion. The show lets loose the wild magic of my court, but it doesn’t force anyone to do anything. It’s been described to me by my human pets as something akin to taking a shot of tequila. You’re not drunk on it, you’re just a little more relaxed. That’s all.” Her face takes on a simpering look. “Oh you sweet dears, is that why you came? To check up on me and my human guests?” She laughs again like it is the most hilarious thing she’s ever heard.

Stiles feels a little like the floor is dropping out underneath him. “That’s why I never felt anything too serious,” he says softly.

“Mr. Stilinski, you’re their emissary?” She eyes him a little harder. Stiles wants to correct her assumption, but once again Derek is answering before he can stop him. 

“He’s as good as,” Derek answered.

“Well, then let me make myself clear to all of you.” Now Shandra steps toward them and Stiles tenses. 

“We can meet openly and speak about your concerns, and my own, with your pack and my court, but we will do so in the light of day without pretense in neutral territory. I will not be accused in my own home nor will I allow you to plan an ambush of my court or it’s guests without provocation. You may leave without fear for harm, tonight, but I expect a proper invitation to treaty before we meet again.” Shandra’s eyes almost glow there at the end and Stiles thinks like he could curl up and hide for the rest of his life if she keeps looking at him like that. 

The next instant it is gone and Derek’s grip eases up just a fraction. Derek nods at her, dipping forward slightly so the rest of them follow suit.

“Good. I hope to hear from you soon, Mr. Hale.” She tells him, then the whole lot of them sweep by and back into the ballroom leaving the five of them staring at each other in amazement.

“This way, please,” They are jolted back to reality by the bouncer opening the front door for them. He too, looks somehow amused as if they never posed a threat to anyone.

Once they are outside, Derek lets him go and they stop. “I can drive back if you wanna…” Stiles waves his hand off toward the road, indicating that Derek might want to disappear with his pack and pretend none of this ever happened. “You can always pick up your car later.”

“No, I’ll drive you. It’s the least I can do. Unless…?” Derek looks so shaken and there isn’t anything Stiles can do to fix it.

“No, that’s fine, I was just making sure you were good.” Stiles assures him.

“I’ll have them bring it around, sir,” The attendant pulls out a cell and makes a call.

“Go, find Scott and his team. We’ll meet tomorrow morning and talk together.” Derek tells them and Erica really looks like she wants to complain, but she lets Boyd tug her away by the hand with a sharp nod. Cora pins Stiles with a hard look he couldn’t read if he tried, before following them into the dark.

When they’re gone, the silence comes down on Stiles and Derek and it’s too heavy and too full and Stiles really thinks maybe he should have insisted on being alone. Except Derek would probably take that the completely wrong way and wow everything really was screwed now, wasn’t it?

They don’t have to wait long for the car, but once they are inside the heaviness between them feels so much worse. It was cold out and Stiles didn’t even notice until now and he’s back to shivering. It’s too quiet and too cold and he just wants a blanket and a hug, honestly. He doesn’t even get up the courage to say anything until they were almost all the way back to the main road. 

“I’m sorry, Derek.” His voice is a lot more wobbly than he’d expected, but he pushes through all the crazy emotions that are crashing in on him. “If you feel at all like I forced you, then I want to apologize. I know she said it’s not worse than a shot of tequila, but we have no way of knowing what it is like for a werewolf. I left you vulnerable and that really isn’t cool.” Stiles needs Derek to hear it, but he also needed them to really talk about it. He needs to know how far under Derek had been.

“I haven’t really figured it all out yet, but I don’t blame you. I blame myself. We had no business going in there without more information.” Derek’s voice is hoarse and his hands are holding so tight to the steering wheel, his knuckles have gone white. “I forced myself on you,” he adds.

“No, Derek, jesus, no you didn’t. Nothing happened in there that I didn’t want.” Stiles turns in his seat to look at Derek and gauge his reactions. He’s still pulling the Hulk routine and Stiles needs him to calm down a good bit so they can discuss this.

“How can you say that?” Derek’s eyes shoot to his for a split second before they are back on the road, his voice incredulous.

“Uh, because it’s true? Because I’ve wanted that for a long time. I just never thought it was an option. And I know that there was a whole dubious consent thing happening back there so I won’t hold it against you if you aren’t interested, but I’m not sorry I acted on my feelings, I’m only sorry that you may have been pushed in some way to react to me or to the situation.” There, he’d said what he needed to say, and now it was just about getting Derek to stop feeling guilty. That and the little bit of hope he needed to squash inside his chest that wanted Derek to admit he’d wanted it too, before the spell. That was going to be harder and take a lot more time. Kind of like college all over again when he’d had to force himself to leave town and leave the maybe he kept imagining was hanging in the air between them. It wasn’t so, he’d left. 

And they’d been fine. Great really. Being back home was even better so it would suck if he’d just gone and ruined everything.

“I wanted you.” Derek’s answer is not at all the expected one at this point. He doesn’t sound happy about it though, so there’s that.

“Before…?” Stiles prompts.

“Before. For a while. It hasn’t been an option, so I just let it lie.” Okay and that was… Stiles doesn’t know what that is but it feels a little on the shitty side.

“Why is it not an option, again? I just feel like I’ve missed something important.” He scrubs his hands over his eyes, rubbing hard. 

Derek doesn’t answer right away and the silence grows and fills the car again even as they near the turn that will take them back to Stiles’s apartment. It’s only about twelve thirty in the morning, but Beacon Hills is silently sleeping, oblivious to the pain of one twenty five year old and the werewolf he cares so much for.

“Please, Derek, talk to me. I don’t want to just leave it like this, okay? At least tell me why we aren’t an option. Then if you want radio silence on the matter, you got it.”

“I always thought you were meant for something bigger. I kept waiting for you to be done with Beacon Hills for good.” Derek was so quiet, Stiles could hardly hear him.

“Man, you are never getting rid of me. Future emissary right here, you know? Not going any where. If you don’t want to test out this thing between us for personal reasons, I get it, I can respect it. It sucks, but I respect you, Derek. But if you think I’ve got one foot out the door, man are you clueless. This is my home. And my future. You told me before I went off to college that I was pack and that pack didn’t change with time or distance, do you remember that?”

“Of course.” Derek answers softly as he turns on Stiles’s street.

“Well, there you are. I’m pack and I’m staying.” Stiles huffs out a breath. 

Derek waits just a beat before speaking. “Then there’s no reason left not to try.”

“Dude, really?” Stiles wants to grab him and kiss him or punch him, he’s not sure. The tension in the car is bleeding away and that little spark of hope in his chest bursts into a flame.

Derek doesn’t say anything else until he’s pulling into a parking space outside the apartment building. It’s about a minute of Stiles holding his breath and watching Derek’s profile as though he could read his mind.

“I don’t know how to do this, but if you’re in, I’m in.” Derek turns off the car and turns toward him. Stiles is grinning, he can’t help it okay? Things got scary there for a minute.

“I’m in. I am so in.” Stiles reaches for him then, hauling him in for a kiss, this time one that’s neither careful nor influenced by anything other than their own clear desires.

Getting inside together involves a lot of give and take considering neither of them will actually fully let go of the other as they walk. Derek presses Stiles to the hood of his car, dipping his tongue deep in his mouth, savoring the feel of him, maybe, or the taste of him. Stiles feels like maybe it would almost be okay to be hauled off to jail for public indecency if Derek keeps kissing him like that, but eventually he remembers his dad is still sheriff so they part and stumble toward the building. Stiles backs Derek against his front door, because it’s hardly public, right? No one is around and he needs to climb Derek, this is a real problem he’s trying to handle.

They do get inside, though, eventually, and in the dark of the living room, they stare at one another, chests heaving almost in time and Stiles knows, okay, he knows how big of a deal this is. So he holds his hand out for Derek and waits and Derek takes his hand slowly and squeezes it. They walk together, hand in hand down the short hall to Stiles’s bedroom and when they get there, Stiles flicks on his bedside lamp and then steps into Derek’s arms.

Stiles takes his time exploring the different ways Derek kisses him. He goes from gentle and slow to sucking Stiles’s bottom lip between his teeth and biting. His hands are everywhere, stroking Stiles’s back, kneading his ass, framing his face in the tenderest of ways. It’s heady and full of something unspoken, but beautiful.

“Sit down,” Derek says this softly, guiding Stiles to the edge of his bed, and he sits, watching in wonder as Derek slides to his knees before him. Derek begins unlacing his right boot, methodically pulling out the laces all the way down until he can lift Stiles’s leg to remove it. Once it’s set aside, he lays a kiss on Stiles’s knee before moving to the left boot. He repeats this process while Stiles watches on in wonder. Derek’s face holds so much more than he ever expected and each touch is so moving that Stiles is left feeling utterly open and vulnerable and it’s the best feeling. He feels safe. And cared for.

Derek stands and sheds his vest and cuffs and shoes until he is standing in only the leather pants. He reaches to undo Stiles’s collar, but Stiles stops him, voice all wobbly all over again. “Leave it.” He tells him.

That surprises a smile out of Derek and it’s so genuine it makes Stiles’s stomach flip over in response. “Yeah?” Derek asks.

“Yeah,” Stiles tells him, echoing his smile.

Derek runs his finger under the edge of the collar, but leaves it in place. He moves to undo his pants, but Stiles stands and takes his hands, pushing them aside and reaching for the fly himself. Derek’s smile vanishes, but it’s replaced with a look of open desire, so Stiles leans in a places a kiss right under his belly button, before unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. Getting them off is a team effort, because leather is a little tricky and they’re tight as they can get, but Derek hides nothing under them, so halfway through the process Stiles is distracted and nuzzling Derek’s cock like it’s his new favorite thing, and maybe it is. 

It’s thick, dark, and the head is larger than anything Stiles has seen up close. Derek smells musty from the leather and the heat generated by his body, but under it his skin is clean and surprisingly soft under the fuzz of black hair that runs all over his body. Stiles wants to taste him, but settles for drawing his nose along the length of Derek’s cock before helping him step out of his pants. 

Once he’s naked, Derek hauls Stiles back to his by his collar and attacks his mouth. He shoves Stiles down to the bed unceremoniously and covers him with his body. “You’re going to kill me,” he pants, tearing his mouth away from Stiles’s and laying a row of tiny bites over his jaw.

Stiles laughs because he’s pretty sure Derek is the one wrecking him, but he doesn’t say that, can’t with Derek attached to his neck and sucking a bruise at the spot where his neck meets his shoulder. He thanks whatever deity might be listening that he has cleans sheets, as he gathers them in fistfuls because Derek is moving and repeating the process of biting and licking and kissing all down his chest and torso. He takes time to very gently lick at the barbell through his nipple, carefully so it doesn’t hurt, but at the same time it lights Stiles up all over, in all of his nerve endings because it’s still so fucking sensitive. It goes pebble hard and that aches, god, it burns, but Derek makes it feel so good Stiles is starting to whimper.

When he gets to Stiles’s shorts, Derek rubs his palm lightly over them, a tease and a reminder of an earlier moment when they couldn’t stop themselves from being all over one another. “Please, fuck. Please.” Stiles begs. 

He doesn’t have to beg long though, Derek doesn’t even bother with the zipper peeling them down Stiles’s legs and throwing them off the bed. He never takes his eyes off Stiles the entire time and it’s a lot. It’s way more than Stiles had in college while he was trying everything out. That was fun and fulfilling in it’s own way, but this is Derek, and both of them are very aware that this isn’t some one night stand to get each other out of their systems. Stiles sees it in Derek’s eyes as he crawls back up over Stiles and lays down, pressing them skin to skin for the first time.

Their mouths find one another and Stiles opens himself, his mouth, his legs, his arms, taking Derek in as close as he can while they lose themselves together, rolling and breathing, Derek rocking his hips against Stiles’s so their cocks rub together with almost too much friction.

“Derek, please, fuck.” Stiles breathes the words into Derek’s mouth, broken and needy.

“Lube?” Derek hasn’t pulled away, but is speaking into his mouth. Their twined tight together now and Derek is pressing him into the mattress.

“Right there, fuck, I, the drawer, the drawer.” Stiles feels like he’s losing the any thread of thought left in him. “Can’t you just sniff it out or…?” he gasps.

That earns him a gruff laugh as Derek finally pulls away enough to dig through his nightstand drawer. Stiles can’t stop himself though, not even long enough for Derek to find his lube. He latches onto Derek’s shoulder, nibbling, testing the muscle between his teeth. He wants to eat Derek up, and there feels like there’s no time to waste. That earns him a groan so he bites harder just before Derek is back over him, grabbing a handful of his hair and jerking him back into another kiss.

Derek doesn’t stay long and Stiles whines when he pulls off again. He can’t be too sorry though because Derek is crawling back away, his mouth leaving a trail of bright red bite marks down his chest and alongside the trail of hair leading from his bellybutton to his cock.

“Oh fuck,” Stiles murmurs. He’s watching Derek’s eyes as they bleed out to brilliant blue, then he blinks and they’re back to normal.

“You smell so fucking good. Always, but it’s strong, just here.” Derek tells him, as he buries his nose against Stiles’s balls. Stiles has seen men in porn dig their nails into their thighs, but he’s never had to do it himself to stave off coming. Until now.

Derek doesn’t give him any warning, but begins licking up and down his cock as he shivers and shudders and tries to hang on to a tiny bit of self control. He almost loses it again when Derek sucks at the head of his cock, suddenly slowing down again. He tongues at the underside and at the slit before suckling gently, then repeating the process. Stiles is a mess. He might be talking out loud and god he hopes he’s not because he’d be telling Derek how much he wants him inside him already. Like deep inside him. How he wants to be anything Derek wants, he’ll take anything Derek wants to give him.

“Anything? If I’d known you’d cave so quickly I’d have done this sooner.” Derek only looks up a moment and Stiles wants to be humiliated but all he can feel is the heady buzz of need and the hot mouth taking him back in, deeper now.

“I hate you,” he tries, but it’s breathless and whiny and makes him laugh.

“Good try,” Derek tells him with a chuckle. He’s an asshole, but they both know how much Stiles doesn’t hate him.

There’s a soft click, the lube being opened, he’s sure. Then a single finger brushing behind his balls. It’s slick and cool, but Stiles squirms because he needs it. Now. Derek doesn’t keep him waiting, but begins massaging, pressing his finger into the rim, and swallows Stiles’s cock back down, this time to the base.

It’s been a while for Stiles. His last relationship was with a girl back in school and since then it’s just been his fingers or his dildo which he’s now very aware is much slimmer than Derek. Fuck. Derek gives a particularly vigorous suck and his finger is buried to the knuckle inside Stiles. He arches off the bed, grinding himself down, spreading his legs further.

“Come on Derek, I can take more, I need more,” he pants.

Derek pulls off his cock long enough to say, “I knew you’d be bossy in bed.”

“Please? God. Derek, please, I’m good. I fuck myself with at least two fingers on a regular basis.” Stiles is begging. He will cry if he has to.

“Christ, Stiles,” Derek slides back in with two fingers and now they’re getting somewhere. 

Stiles is hot all over, achy and the stretch is not too much, but just right. He doesn’t want Derek’s fingers, though. Derek is all over him though, his wet, hot mouth is a beautiful distraction. Even if it’s torture to be teased open so slowly. Apparently he’s not going to be able to rush Derek in any way because he’s too intent on making Stiles fall apart. He’s moaning softly now, and the vibrations travel down Stiles’s dick to his balls that are already drawn up tight and Stiles’s legs start to shake.

He adds a third finger now and twists them slowly until they slide easily in and out of Stiles and the sounds they are making together are pornographic. Between the slick of his ass and the wet sucking Stiles has to force himself to keep watching, he’s afraid if he loses focus for a minute he’ll come. And Derek looks amazing, he’s beautiful, and so fucking hot it hurts, it hurts all the way to Stiles’s toes, but like in the very best way.

“I can’t, Derek, I’m too close, we gotta--” He doesn’t even have a voice at this point, his words are thin and breathy.

Derek looks up at him, presses his fingers up, and rubs, then hollows out his cheeks and takes Stiles all the way down and sucks. Hard. That’s all it takes for Stiles’s back to bow right off the bed as he empties himself down Derek’s throat with a shuddering groan.

He’s vaguely aware that Derek’s fingers are pulling out and Derek’s hovering back over him, slicking his cock with lube and come off Stiles’s belly and that’s… almost too much to handle in his blissed out state. Stiles’s eyes flutter closed for a second and then Derek is kissing him, a soft warm press that tastes bitter and wild and a little like something he could get used to.

“Stiles, look at me,” Derek’s command is more of a plea and Stiles meets his eyes.

He looks undone, but in the same time very much in control, even though his chest is heaving like he’s been running. “Ready?” he asks.

Stiles nods, mouth falling open with a sigh. He’s been ready forever.  
He can feel the head of Derek’s cock rubbing against the rim of his hole and he wants it in him already, except, “Wait.” Stiles reaches for Derek’s wrist and hold him.

“What?” Derek’s face shutters down over whatever emotion he’s hiding.

“I just… we never talked about it.” Stiles bites his lip, suddenly nervous again. He knew they didn’t need a condom, he’d had that talk with Scott already. Werewolves could carry or transmit diseases like that. 

Derek looks down at his dick and frowns. “About what?”

“Knots. Knotting. Is that a thing? I need to know if that’s something that could happen because I don’t know if I’m that ready, you know. Like ready ready.” Stiles can’t exactly look him in the eye when he says it.

Derek is laughing now and it makes Stiles feel small and grumpy. He looks back and pouts.

“Only you would ask something like that right now.” He’s shaking his head, his guarded expression replaced with something fond and warm.

“You don’t have to laugh at me, dude.” Stiles huffs, embarrassed.

“It’s not a thing. I don’t have a knot. I have a human dick. And just so we’re clear, Stiles? I’m not making fun of you. Always ask me anything, alright?” He lets go of his dick and leans in for a kiss.

“Anything else?” he asks. Derek is looking at him with such evident care and tenderness that Stiles feels that little thread of anxiety leave his chest as he relaxes into the bed again. 

“No, I’m good. I’m ready.” Stiles tells him.

He doesn’t move away, but reaches between them to line his cock up, then he’s pressing in slowly and watching Stiles’s face intently. Stiles hooks a foot over the back of his leg and pulls him closer, wraps him up in his arms as he sinks into Stiles’s body. It’s a lot, he knew it would be, but everything feels good. The pressure, the stretch, Derek’s weight as he presses him down. 

“God, you’re tight. Are you okay?” He asks, clearly worried.

“I’m good. I’m so good, Derek, please. Please fuck me.” Stiles pants the words against Derek’s mouth.

Derek’s hips stutter and snap, burying him deep in Stiles with a soft moan. Then his mouth is on Stiles as he begins to move. It feels like being taken apart at both ends, like Derek’s fucking him everywhere, filling him, taking him, claiming him. It’s heady and perfect and Stiles is crying out into their kiss.

He wraps his legs around Derek’s, hands sliding down his muscled back to grab handfuls of his ass, to feel him as he pounds into Stiles, faster, harder. Stiles is already getting hard again, but he can’t even focus on that, all he can feel is how full he feels with Derek inside him and how well their bodies fit together.

Stiles is lost to it, to the way he feels, like his chest is cracking open and it’s totally okay because it’s Derek, he doesn’t have to be afraid, so it’s a little bit of a shock to feel the world tip and tilt and suddenly he’s looking down at Derek. Derek’s grins, so fucking bright, that Stiles can’t help but return it. Then he’s rocking his hips, enjoying the new angle and the site of Derek coming to pieces beneath him.

Derek has him by the hips, tugging him in time with Stiles’s motions, rubbing up and down his thighs, but every time Stiles pushes up higher on his knees and falls down a little harder, Derek’s face goes slack and he sucks in a breath. Soon enough Stiles loses the gentle rocking rhythm just so he can see Derek lose it, lose the last of whatever control he was hanging on to. Stiles plants his hands on Derek’s chest and rides him as hard as he can and Derek for his part gets a hand around Stiles’s cock which yeah, that, now he can feel it. He can feel how close he is again and it makes his balls ache.

He leans down for a breathless kiss and tries and get his bearings, but he can’t hope to do anything other than pant against Derek and go pliant as Derek lifts him up and down on his cock. Stiles is crying out, he’s so close, everything feels like so much and there’s a burning spiral at the base of his spine that feels like it’s expanding out, filling him with heat and electric current

They flip again and Derek slows way down.

“No, no, no, I’m so close, please Derek, please,” Stiles is a mess. He’s sweaty and trembling and he can’t really make his voice work right.

“Not yet, not until I tell you to,” Derek tells him, kissing him rough now, though his movements are careful, easing in and out of Stiles’s body, dragging each motion out. He’s hitting Stiles deep, hitting his sweet spot more often than not, but it’s so slow.

Okay, yeah, Stiles is definitely on board with this whole Derek in control thing since it’s going so well for both of them, and his body certainly agrees with going along. He nods, closing his eyes as Derek brings their foreheads together. Their stomachs trap Stiles’s cock, rubbing it in long slow teases, but it’s not enough anymore to push him over the edge.

“You submit so much easier than I expected,” Derek whispers. Stiles wants to look at him, but he’s floating now, and it’s much easier to drift in this place where everything feels so charged, all through his body.

“Not like I was going to say no to any of this,” Stiles tells him. “God.” the last is an almost silent whisper, but he knows Derek hears him because he huffs into Stiles’s neck as he begins sucking another mark on Stiles’s sensitive neck.

“I want to play with you some time, would you like that? It seemed like something you were interested in earlier.” Okay, Derek might be evil, just a little bit. Stiles wants to tell him so, but Derek keeps going.

“We can work out all the details later, if you want to.” Okay, better, and Stiles groans and nods.

“Please,” Stiles whimpers, because as great as all of this feels, it’s actually also probably going to kill him.

“Okay, okay, I have you. You can come, as soon as you’re ready.” Derek kisses him once more before he lets loose again, fucking into Stiles hard and fast.

He reaches between them to fist Stiles’s cock and that’s it, that’s all it takes before Stiles is crying out and practically sobbing as he comes between them. Maybe he is crying because Derek is kissing his face and nuzzling into him, pulling him tight and wrapping him in his arms as his hips begin to lose their rhythm. He follows quickly after that, burying himself as deep as he can while he kisses and strokes Stiles’s face.

He collapses and Stiles holds him as tight as he can manage, the sweat and come cooling between them as they catch their breaths in the quiet of Stiles’s bedroom. It stretches on like that for several long minutes, but it feels comfortable in a way Stiles hasn’t ever felt before. There’s no rush here, it’s just them, just enjoying the afterglow of everything that’s happened between them. 

Stiles runs his fingers through Derek’s hair, gently combing it back off his forehead and eventually Derek slips free of him, but still doesn’t move. His head is against Stiles’s chest and for a while Stiles thinks he maybe fell asleep, and wouldn’t that be something?

Derek isn’t asleep, though. He rolls off of Stiles, but doesn’t quite let him go, instead spooning up next to him so they can look at each other. He’s smiling and Stiles vows then and there to keep making him smile like that because it’s the best thing he’s ever seen. It’s also starting to feel like Derek has something to say, but he’s not saying it and it’s making Stiles begin to squirm.

“What?” Stiles whispers. His voice is still scratchy from maybe being much louder than he’d realized.

“I have one question.” Derek says, calmly, but that fond look is back now and Stiles is totally okay with that.

“Shoot.” Stiles says.

“Earlier tonight, what were you going to say? Something about everyone knowing something about me?” And now there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes that Stiles so should have seen coming. He totally would have if he’d not just experienced the best orgasm of his life. Twice.

“That’s so not fair, dude.” Stiles groans.

“Don’t call me dude while we’re laying here naked.” Derek smirks.

“Fine. Okay. I was just going to say…”

“Yes?” Derek leans closer and rubs his nose against Stiles’s playfully.

“I was going to say that everyone knows you're more of a sub than I am.” Stiles said it all as one word then closed his eyes and braced for whatever might be coming. 

Nothing happens.

When he chances a peek at Derek, he’s grinning again and then shakes his head.

“I’ve never been anyone’s sub.” Derek tells him. “But I could be yours. If that’s something you want to try.”

Okay, way not what Stiles was expecting. At all, but also hi. Really? Yes please? And every variation of hell yes the world has to offer.

“Really dude?”

Derek quirks an eyebrow at him.

“I mean, uh, really?”

“Yes, really.” Derek kisses him. “I want to do everything with you. Anything.” His voice gets soft at the end and Stiles wants to kiss him again. And again. So he does.

Eventually Stiles feels like it’s definitely way past shower time, even though the after sex cuddling is sort of amazing and he and Derek are laughing and talking softly in the dark. He’s going to pass out soon and wake up very uncomfortable. Unfortunately, Derek disagrees. It is officially the first thing they disagree on since deciding to be a thing. Officially.  
“Really, Derek? I knew there was weird werewolf sex shit Scott wasn’t telling me about.” Stiles is squirming and Derek is hanging on.

“Just for tonight?” Derek asks, and he does that puppy eye thing that is so unfair. “You smell like us now.”

Okay. Damn. Maybe weird werewolf sex things do something to Stiles because he can not say no to that. Though it’s probably really just Derek he can’t say no to.

“Just for tonight.” Stiles agrees, but he pouts so Derek knows he’s not too happy about it. Not that Derek notices, because he’s scooping Stiles toward him, rolling them so he can snuggle up behind him.

“Goodnight Stiles,” he whispers as he draws the blankets up over them. God, that sounds amazing, too. It’s a simple thing, after everything else they’ve shared tonight, but it hits him right in the chest. This really isn’t just them working out their sexual angst. It’s the start of something pretty huge and Stiles is so okay with that. Better than okay.

“Goodnight Derek.” He whispers back.

In the morning they’ll need to work out the details, and then meet with the pack to talk about this whole fairy hot mess, and yeah everyone is going to know they’re a thing now, but none of that matters right now. Right now, as Stiles is drifting off to sleep, he just feels content. Deep down. Maybe, in some deep corner of his brain, he’s even glad they got hit with a little fae mojo. A little pixie dust and a few happy thoughts and he and Derek finally get to begin their happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> Contains spoilers!!
> 
> The dubious consent is more presumed than anything else. Actual intercourse takes place when both parties are completely sober and free of influence.


End file.
